


Battle

by StoriesbyNessie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dark, Established Relationship, Heavy Angst, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:13:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24071968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StoriesbyNessie/pseuds/StoriesbyNessie
Summary: Draco wants Ron to make a choice.*Warning* Dark topic. Read at your own risk.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Ron Weasley
Comments: 4
Kudos: 54





	Battle

**Battle**

“You know, this is also an option.”

The small vial almost fell off the edge when it slid across the shiny wooden table, put there with a small thump by the hand of Draco Malfoy. Ron caught it and stared at in disbelief. He twirled it in his hand and frowned.

“What’s this for?”

“One drop,” Draco said sharply, not quite answering the question. “Quick. Painless. It’ll be over in an instant. You won’t feel a thing.” He crossed his arms over his chest and turned away so Ron wouldn’t see his expression.

Ron eyed the vial incredulously. It was dark purple, the top black as night.

“How come you carry around stuff like this?” He asked, knowing that he just stalled, tried to buy time he didn’t have.

Draco had turned around completely now; Ron stared at his back and noticed how the shoulders were tense beneath his shirt. His white-blond hair shone in the light of the only candle lightening up the room. The shadows on the walls and the darkness outside appeared more terrifying now when they talked about this.

“I like the power it gives me.” Draco’s voice sounded strained. “I like knowing that I could end it all when I want. It makes me feel like I’m in control. But now it’s time I pass it on to you.”

Ron blinked. He had never heard this before. Suddenly overcome with an icy feeling of dread, he shot up from his chair and placed a hand on Draco’s shoulder from over the table. The chair scraped horribly against the tiled floor when pushed back and the hand he put on Draco’s shoulder was warm, sweaty and nervous. He fully expected to be shaken off, but the other wizard didn’t move as much as an inch.

“Didn’t know… D’you… Do you really…” he hesitated, not knowing how to phrase it without sounding stupid or have Draco clam up entirely and lose the opportunity forever.

_Do you have thoughts like that too?_

Ron couldn’t bear to say the words out loud. “Please don’t,” he said instead. The words slipped out before he could stop them, and he knew he had said something wrong because Draco suddenly whipped around and before Ron knew it, he stared into a pair of furious, stormy grey eyes. The hard look on Draco’s face almost frightened him; he wasn’t used to see this level of rage in them anymore.

“So I’m not allowed but _you_ are?! You really are dense, aren’t you, Weasley?”

Ron’s eyes dropped to the table. “That’s different,” he mumbled. “It’s not the same.”

They stood so close their foreheads pressed together now, which Ron thought neither of them really wanted, but nobody attempted to move.

“I’m tired of it and I’m tired of you,” Draco said harshly in a low, feeble voice. “Which is why I’m giving you this opportunity. The potion is yours for twelve hours. I won’t do anything to stop you. Take it and do what you say you want, or don’t and stop talking about it. For the rest of our lives, you are not to say a word about it.”

“What if I don’t take it but you do?” Ron shot back. He still held the vial tightly in his hand, and the glass against his palm almost burned. “Later on?”

“I won’t. I’ll destroy it.”

Ron stood up straighter and backed away a little. “You can’t do this,” he said firmly, hating how his voice wavered slightly when he spoke. “The healer said — ”

“The healer _would have_ said…” Draco corrected vehemently through gritted teeth. “If you didn’t skip out on the meetings.”

Ron pocketed the potion. “Fine.” He proceeded to exit the room, not wanting to turn this into a fight. He was too tired for it; he ached all over. He just wanted to be alone, locked away in the dark in his room. Where nobody could reach him.

“This isn’t a game,” he heard Draco say behind him.

Ron froze in his movement. Balling his hands into fists, he couldn’t stop himself from asking. “What are you going to do with me if… If I take it?”

“Garden,” was the only thing Draco said. He said it short and fast and refused to say anything more.

Ron pressed his lips together. He had one more question on his mind. He needed to ask. “Would you regret you gave it to me? If…”

Draco said nothing in response. Ron waited until it felt like he would burst with every emotion humanly possible showering over him all at once. His nails dug painfully into his palms; he was sweating, shivering and _hurting._

_Draco was such a fucking prick._

“ANSWER ME!” Ron yelled so loudly the paintings on the wall beside them shook. “WOULD. YOU. REGRET. IT?”

More silence.

“It’s not that hard of a question, Draco.”

Ron didn’t turn around, he couldn’t bear to look at him. He was too afraid of what he would see.

It had always been too damn destructive between them. Their personal issues didn’t help.

_And in twelve hours…_

Arms curled around his waist from behind. White-blond hair tickled the nape of his neck. They stood like that for a few minutes. Draco didn’t let go, and Ron didn’t move.

“Would you care if I died?” Ron asked after a while in a gloomy voice.

Draco’s grip around him tightened. His eyes were closed, and he couldn’t speak. There was an enormous lump in his throat, and if he spoke now, Ron would notice that and he couldn’t notice. He had spent entirely too much time to build up the walls and Ron couldn’t break them no matter how bad he felt. It was harsh and stupid, but if he spoke now, he would never be able to stop being sensitive and sensitivity and weakness were feelings Ron had, not him. It was just the way things worked.

Instead, he hoped tightening his grip around Ron would somehow make him realise.

“Would you?” He heard Ron ask again.

Involuntary tears pricked at the corners of Draco’s eyes. _Would I hug you if I didn’t?_

_Please don’t use the damn potion, Weasley._

_Make the right choice._

_Fin_


End file.
